The Bar at the End of the Universe

milliways_bar @ 2007-12-22T21:02:00

2007-12-22T21:02:00Z

Posted by: hands-unclean.livejournal.com

She is a glamorous woman, standing in the open door with a jacket draped over one arm. Patent leather high heels, small waist above an A-line skirt, silk blouse that's sensual but also approachable. Appropriate for communicating on satellite TV.

She is a woman with a glamor on her, born in the eleventh century after the birth of Christ. She died a queen, broke ranks with the common view of her sex, and wed a man with a famous name, a man who called her equal.

She has not set foot in this place for a year and a day; her hand has been guiding other matters. For a moment, she studies the Bar with fear on her face: she left Milliways with spellwork in place. It was meant to gull the patrons, to keep them from noting or remembering her absence. She never intended to return to see if it would hold.

But what is there to fear, in truth? The days are short and the Dark is strong. And certainly she has done no harm here, if she is remembered.

Lady Macbeth shuts the door behind her, and strides toward the Bar. Her eyes sweep the clientele, and her lips curl in a smile.

She is a queen, and more besides. Let them come.

[[ooc: About those spells -- they probably have held. Ping acroBAMF if you have questions? But otherwise, it's like she was never gone.]]

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Du-nuh du-nuh dunuh dunuh dunuhdunuhdunuhdunuh duh na naaaaa!

2007-08-29T20:26:00Z

Posted by: little-miss-sue.livejournal.com

She's perfect and daring
Courageous and caring
And always more sparkly than you.

Your sister, your cousin
Your lover, some frickin'
Person you thought that you knew.

Enter Miss Sue
Her (final?) debut
She steps with an elegant air.

Her sparkling orbs
Your canon absorbed
By her multiple-adjectived hair.

So do come on down now
Skip over, around now
Forget all your logical lines

Slip under her spell
Send your story to hell
Remember: she takes every kind.

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milliways_bar @ 2007-01-09T01:07:00

2007-01-09T01:07:00Z

Posted by: hands-unclean.livejournal.com

OOM: Before there can be a leave-taking, there must be a parting of ways.

All hail Macbeth, who will wake untroubled in the morning.

Millitimed to the evening of December the 20th.

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milliways_bar @ 2006-10-08T22:57:00

2006-10-08T22:57:00Z

Posted by: hands-unclean.livejournal.com

If one is loose with days, it has been one year since Lady Macbeth arrived facedown in Milliways, newly freed of both madness and her life.

Death has been good to her. Her husband is regained, and alliances, if not friends, have been gathered from across many worlds.

She came here ragged and alone. Now she is holding court at her favorite table, near the windows on the lake. Come join her for a toast: she has much to celebrate.

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milliways_bar @ 2006-07-19T19:46:00

2006-07-19T19:46:00Z

Posted by: hands-unclean.livejournal.com

Do forgive the Lady for being absent, but she's had a Macbeth to occupy her, and some creatures are more distracting than perhaps warranted. Still, one does feel something for them, something as fierce as the rest of her.

She may easily pretend the time has been short. After all, she has much of the stuff ahead of her, being dead. And so the stroll through the Bar toward a table is leisurely, and she is glad to be stopped on the way.

She has a smile. That rarely means anything good. Try your luck?

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milliways_bar @ 2006-04-23T20:16:00

2006-04-23T20:16:00Z

Posted by: hands-unclean.livejournal.com

Happy birthday, William Shakespeare. Your children are out at play.

Macbeth and his Lady are holding court. By that, we mean to say that there are two dead Scots at a table, deep in conversation. They may be plotting something. They may be sharing stories. They may just be saying sweet nothings to each other, inasmuch as murderous usurper types do (and they do).

You should come over and make yourself known. There's even cake, you know.

[ooc: Two muns, one post, tag away! You'll probably get both.]

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milliways_bar @ 2006-04-15T21:25:00

2006-04-15T21:25:00Z

Posted by: kinghereafter.livejournal.com

[oom: after the curtain falls]

The door opens and a man walks into the bar.

This place isn't what he was expecting--a slight widening of his eyes betrays this fact--but if you asked, he probably couldn't tell you what he'd envisioned as an alternative.

The shock wears off quickly and his posture straightens. Keen eyes sweep across the bar, as though looking for someone he knows.

They did say his wife was here.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Macbeth.

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